Stand Still, Look Pretty
by Amorisa
Summary: One shot. Post-series. Wyatt Cain hides his well-known face, until the night he gets a rare glimpse at his princess. A Tin Man Challenge fic.


**Title:** "Stand Still, Look Pretty"  
**Author:** Rissy James  
**Characters:** Cain, DG  
**Rating:** PG  
**Summary:** One-shot. Post-series. _Wyatt Cain hides his well-known face until the night he gets a rare glimpse at his princess._

**Author's Note:** Written for Challenge 4-A ("Are You Ready To Rock?") at tm_challenge over on Livejournal.

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**Stand Still, Look Pretty**

The three annuals since the double eclipse hadn't done Wyatt Cain any favours. There were times when he simply wanted to disappear. He liked this tavern because it was quiet, and out of the way. There was the odd occasion that he'd be recognized, but for the most part, people left him alone. Mostly because it was the kind of place where one went to be left alone, and no one was in a socializing mood.

Tonight had started the same as any other, but it wasn't long after he'd arrived that a trickle of bodies coming through the door turned into a steady leak. Mostly young kids, around his son's age – not that he'd considered Jeb a kind in a long time.

Beside him, a pair of girls sidled up to the bar, mostly ignoring him. They ordered up a couple of drinks that probably contained more sugar and magic than actual alcohol. "So who is this woman again?" the first girl asked.

"I don't know, but the review in the WBU Thinker this morning said she'd be worth stepping into the city to see," her friend replied.

The first girl giggled. "Since when do you read the Thinker?"

"Oh, quiet."

Cain frowned and turned his head away from the girls. A twinge in his gut was telling him he wanted to get out of there, and soon. He was up and angling his hat low over his eyes just as the lights went down. Gods, had it really gotten so crowded in there? He was nudging shoulders and mumbling apologies the entire way through the throng of people that had gathered in the small tavern.

He had one hand on the door when the sound of the voice-magnifier being turned on shot through the room; he had his arm braced to push the door open when a tiny voice spoke to the room. Despite being magically magnified to the whole room, she sounded reserved. Cain froze with his hand up. Behind him, there were a few nervous syllables before she cleared her throat. She said nothing more as the first strum of the guitar resounded through the room and the crowd fell quiet.

Wyatt Cain didn't move, not even to bring his arm down, as the woman on stage began a song laced with disappointment and bitter tears. Her voice was honest, and sweet, and rang clearer to Cain than anything had in a good long while. Finally letting his arm drop, he turned to see her. Her dark hair was loose and long; she'd taken to wearing it up and out of her way. He'd forgotten how it tended to curl.

She didn't look out at the audience as she sang. Her eyes were closed, her lips moving expressively, the corners sometimes turning up into half a smile. The music she played was unlike anything he'd ever heard before, maybe something she'd brought with her from the Other Side; the entire crowd seemed restless, some unimpressed, but Cain was stuck. Her voice, husky and close to tears, anchored his feet. This heartbreak was not something she showed to his face; this was something hidden and raw, entirely personal, but she bore it in front of a group of strangers.

By the time she'd finished her song, he'd leaned against the wall in the shadows to watch her. It was a different person up there, but she still reminded him of _his girl_, though he'd never once had the gall to face up to that time bomb.

Later on, he was waiting for her in the alley. She was bundled up against the night; his coat was open, his collar unbuttoned.

"What are you doing here?" DG asked him accusingly as she laid eyes on him.

"'Bout to ask you the same thing. Who knows you're out here this time of night?"

"No one, and you weren't supposed to see this, either," she muttered, as if it were his fault she'd got caught.

"Kinda glad I did. You all right, DG?"

She laughed, but her eyes skipped away. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Quite a woeful tune you were singin'."

She frowned guiltily at him. "You weren't supposed to hear that," she whispered. Sighing, she tried to put a smile on her face. "Walk me home?"

"Planned on it," he said with a smirk.

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**Author's Note II:** I wrote this back in December for a challenge (I didn't win, but worthier fics did!); I don't like "song fics" so I won't include lyrics, but what DG sings is "Stand Still, Look Pretty" by the Wreckers.


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